Stabbing anger with pen

Haters gonna hate
Bitches gonna bitch
Losers gonna lose
Winners gonna win

Buckle up; you are in for a treat. If you can’t face me you should turn the fuck around and quit talking shit about me behind my back. Just quit messing with me, because I can outline pathetic thug-wannabes like you in chalk and blood, with my eyes shut. It is like a six sense really. You think you’re tough. Tough enough, to fucking mess with me? Cunt, you walk with a limp and you want to race me to that whore?
You know what they say: “When you can’t run with the big dogs, you’d better stay on the porch and lick your dick”.
I’ll fucking beat the tar out of you man. You bring a knife to a gunfight and you expect to win. I know I am not always quick on the trigger but believe when I tell you; am a black horse and I always win. Don’t make me mad, because when I get all fucked up in my mind, I am a loose cannon.
I’ll come after to you. I’ll come for you. I’ll drag you out of that room, take you to my den, fracture your bones, smash you, mash you, crack open your skull, snatch those eyeballs off your fucking faggot face, tear apart your soul, dislocate your joints, peel your skin off, stomp on your head, take a swing at you with my axe, maybe have some fun with my pitchfork, poke holes in your heart. Or if we want to try more advanced manoeuvres we’d let that rat eat your intestines when the metallic container heats up, play with the knee splitter for a while or simply fool around with the thumbscrew. Now, you know that these are not mere words. Those words are true. You’ve seen for yourself, you’ve heard about it, you’ve felt it. You’ve seen for yourself how my friends with pumped biceps and triceps just lose it and beat the pulp out of everyone when something tries to get in my way and hurt me.
You are an average Joe and I’ve been told am a class act. You are just off the boat and you want to fight me? Get Real, man. My girlfriend calls you a “fresh jerk”. That’s probably the sweetest thing that has ever dripped from her mouth. You prattle and you want to battle the rhetoric. Your protuberant childishness evinces your classy background.
I am from the fucking jungle man, you feel me? Here, I call the shots. I sit on the edge of my world and let my feet dangle over the cliff. I sit safe because I know there’s no one out here has got the guts to push me. This is my den, my throne and aint nobody snatching my throne away from me, and I will cling on to it.
Here, I lead, others follow,
I fuck up, others clean the mess up,
I promulgate, others enforce,
I chose, others attack,
I hate, and others kill.
Rivers and lakes run dry after I finish quenching my thirst. I craft the dreams and construe the nightmares. When I walk into the room, screams and loud conversations turn to whispers. That’s how powerful I am man. Like 50 said; “Watch the ships scatter as I shoot at the sea”. Here, am the omega, and you are just another little piece of shit no one gives a fuck about. Take a look at the scars on my back. These evince the hell I’ve been through. So many motherfuckers, like you, want to play in this league, on my field, in my sphere but still got dues to pay. At times, I snap my fingers on a trippy green night with my haze and some random punk like you is rushed to the closest emergency unit.
Once again, you know these are not just words. You’ve heard about it. I know it. I also know that you are afraid of me. I can feel it. I can see it in your face. I can almost see the sweat trickling down your temples as I pull up in my homie’s car with heavy eyelids because I’ve been twisting blunts. I can hear your bones rattle in fear. I can sense your pulse rate shoot up when my homie revs the engine. The bass playing so loud it would turn you deaf and my fists are so fucking powerful it will grant you death. Don’t get me wrong man. I am not trying to scare you. I only want you to know that when it comes to competition, you are OUT.
You hate me because your girl has been feeling me lately? You hate me because she burns up for me when am in the parking lot puffing on some blunts? I don’t give a flying fuck about your chick, but just so to piss you off, I am going to add her name in red ink to my “To-Do” list. You’d better watch your back man because my boys are always at daggers drawn ready to pounce on the first punk-ass motherfucker who tries to fuck with me. My men out there, they wear cloaks of evil and trust me when I tell you; they are devils on the prowl. They are nefarious and there is no fucking way on earth you will get off easy with this. There is no fucking way on earth that you will talk your ass out of this shit. I am right here man and I am here to stay. I’ll be waiting for you at every entry, at every exit, at every dawn, at every dusk, at every crossroads, every threshold. Don’t fuck with me, because I won’t feel an ounce of pity for you, once I’ve revved up the engine. I am going to run you the fuck over. I am just not the guy you can control. So get your fucking ass off the chip seal and I might spare you the sidewalk. This isn’t bragging and boasting man, this shit is real. Ask your girlfriend, she’s been to places with me.
Like 50 said: “When Bruce Banner gets angry, he turns into the hulk. And when the hulk gets angry, he turns into me.”